elegantly on the bench in the open vehicle, but Lord Mapleton waited nearby, supposedly to assist her up as well.
Which ought to be innocent enough.
If only he would stop watching her!
“Miss Drake,” he extended one hand. Thinking quickly, Charlotte slapped the closed end of the parasol into it.
“You will kindly hand this to Miss Fairchild?” And then she curtsied.
Chapter 3
Purchasing Gifts
The sting on his hand reminded Anthony that this lady, this young woman, a servant, did not wish his attention, and most definitely did not want his kindness.
He ought to kick himself for his bumbling behavior already this morning. Miss Drake was Miss Fairchild’s companion, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time since meeting her.
With an expression of impassivity he didn’t feel, he stood behind the unsettling young woman as she lifted her foot to climb up. She was half a head shorter than Miss Fairchild but if she wished to do this herself, who was he to deny her the accomplishment?
One attempt. Fail.
Another.
Another yet.
Feeling more awkward than he had in over a decade, Anthony stepped forward only for her to motion him to back up. Servant or not, did the woman not realize any gentleman would not stand by while a lady, a girl, a woman, for God’s sake, struggled to climb into a vehicle?
Dash it all! He reached out, planted his hands on her waist and lifted her up and onto the conveyance.
He did not expect the bolt of awareness that shot through him upon touching her. Warmth. Tingling consciousness. His hands had nearly encircled her waist and she’d weighed little more than a child. But she most definitely had not affected him like a child. As he’d lifted her, nothing in the world could have prevented his gaze from focusing on her round hips and derriere. And when she steadied herself before climbing on, a whiff of sweet feminine essence threatened to hold him captive.
Time stood still until Miss Fairchild’s voice jerked him out of his stupor.
“Did you forget something, my lord?” Mild irritation laced her voice moving him to climb aboard to join them.
What on earth was the matter with him?
Miss Drake sat in the subservient position with her back to the horses and Miss Fairchild forward facing. Still dazed from the strange effect Miss Drake evoked, he swallowed hard and took his place beside his companion for the day. Then he looked anywhere but at the young woman directly in front of him.
“You are such a man, Mapleton.” A delicate fan landed upon his chest as Miss Fairchild tapped him flirtatiously. “To have put off your purchases until the last minute. Mother and I did most of our shopping in London during the little season.”
“It’s wonderful the shops have reopened already. It hasn’t been that long since the fire.” Miss Drake inserted.
“Pftt.” Miss Fairchild scoffed. “I hope you find something of value, my lord. The local goods fail miserably in comparison to what can be found in the windows alone, on Oxford Street.”
“I’m confident I’ll find something in Mr. Blanchard’s inventory to satisfy my needs.” In fact, he made it a point to support the local shops with his patronage whenever possible. Not everyone was fortunate enough to travel to London to purchase their necessities. And it was those same people who provided the comforts for the more affluent members in the area. Which was why he’d invested so heavily in rebuilding the village as quickly as possible.
Anthony tilted his head awkwardly in order to avoid losing an eye to the parasol Miss Fairchild swirled recklessly upon her shoulder.
“I’m horrible at shopping,” he admitted. “How is a gentleman to know what the ladies in his life wish for?” It was the reason he always grappled at the last moment. His mother had everything she could possibly want, except for his father, of course. An all too familiar emptiness passed through him at the thought. Daphne was even more difficult to please. She’d prefer to give all the sum of her worldly possessions to the poor. Another point of contention between her and Michael.
Anthony had purchased a walking cane for Michael as something of a joke. His brother had taken great pains to give Anthony grief last spring, when he’d met up with him at White’s with one in hand.
The cane was a beauty, with an ivory handle and a lion’s head carved into the stick. Even Michael couldn’t help but appreciate such a find.
“Jewelry is always welcome.” Miss Fairchild fluttered her lashes in his direction.